Day Four (10 page)

‘What do you mean?’

‘Kelly. Where is she now?’

Ram reappeared, saving him from answering. ‘Devi. Please come outside so I may speak with you.’

The girl slumped in her seat as Devi left the room and joined Ram in the corridor. Rogelio had left – Devi wasn’t certain if he was relieved or disappointed. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘The captain has called an emergency meeting for all the heads of department. Can I trust you with this situation? We must show that we have followed procedure all the way through.’

‘Yes, sir. Should I talk to the others in the singles group now, sir?’

‘We can do that tomorrow if we have to.’ Ram let the implication hang. The ship was due to dock at eight a.m. – six hours from now. Whatever happened, they would be late, which would mean disgruntled passengers, and extra duties for all the security staff. In the usual course of events, their role would be to secure the scene of the incident and take statements from any possible witnesses; the rest would be left to off-ship agencies.

‘Is the satellite working now, sir?’

Ram wiped a hand over his eyes, for the first time showing a sign of exhaustion.

‘No. There is still no Internet access or radio communication.’

‘How can that be?’

Ram shrugged. ‘They have sent out emergency signals, so by morning we should receive off-ship support if we need it. For now, I am asking you to contain this situation.’

‘Sir. I think it is best if I check the security camera footage from this morning. It is possible that we can identify whoever was in her cabin.’

‘You are not in the crime squad now, Devi,’ Ram said softly.

Devi fought to keep his expression neutral. He’d often wondered how much Ram knew about his past. His boss had never asked why a sub-inspector with a promising career ahead of him had chosen to become a shippee, and Devi sometimes wondered what he would say if he was asked. After all, he was overqualified for his position. Without exception, the other guards were only trained for security. Ashgar, for example, had worked for one of the tourist hotels; the others had used their connections for recommendations.

‘We must be seen to have done all we can,’ Ram continued. ‘But I will not be pleased if rumours spread throughout the ship that there is a predator on board. I am relying on you to be discreet.’ Ram paused and looked straight into Devi’s eyes. ‘You of all people are adept at this.’

Devi licked his lips, but his mouth was dry. ‘Understood, sir.’

‘Good. Please escort the guest back to her cabin.’

Ram stalked away, allowing Devi a minute to breathe.
You of all people are adept at this
. Could Ram have meant that as an ex-member of the notoriously corrupt Maharashtra police force, Devi would be practised at keeping his own counsel? It was the only explanation – he’d taken every possible precaution. Not even Madan knew of his hasty liaisons with Rogelio.

Devi returned to the security office and informed the girl that she was free to go to her cabin. Neither of them spoke as he walked her through the service corridors and out onto the main deck on level five. Without the air-con working, the air hung heavy, but the mugginess didn’t bother him – he despised the artificial iciness that blasted through the ducts. It was one of the reasons he didn’t mind working the exit point on port days. The work was dull to the point of insanity, but the fresh air made it worth it.

Her cabin mate came to the door the second it was opened. ‘What’s going on?’

‘It’s Kelly,’ the girl howled. ‘She’s
dead
.’

Devi left them to it. It was pointless to instruct them to keep the news to themselves.

He retraced his steps, ducked into the service corridor and headed for the surveillance offices instead of peeling off towards his cabin. Ram hadn’t specifically told him not to review the CCTV footage, and as the monitors and motion-capturing cameras were directly linked to the back-up systems, they would still be running on emergency power.

The security room stank of sweat and sour breath. Ashgar was snoozing, his head on his chest. On the screens, passengers were still milling around the Lido deck – a group sat huddled next to the stage, others dangled their feet in the pool. A couple were entwined in one of the Jacuzzis on the Tranquillity deck, which should have been closed off an hour ago. Someone would have to request that they leave the area, but that could wait. He moved a chair next to Ashgar and sat down. His earlier tiredness had washed away, and he felt oddly energised, the way he used to feel before his mind became rusty from the daily routine on board. There was rarely any excitement on the shorter cruises: the occasional alcohol-fuelled fight or minor incidences of alcohol or drug smuggling – mostly marijuana.

The doctor said the girl had been dead for twelve to eighteen hours. That meant he’d need to call up the footage from two a.m. until six to be safe. Fortunately, the cameras on the passenger decks were motion-sensitive, which would save him from fast-forwarding through hours of empty time. He typed in the command, and sat back to review the action.

3.01 a.m. An African-American couple stumbled down the corridor, laughing. The woman playfully slapped the man, who pressed her up against the corridor wall. They shared a passionate kiss, and then he followed her into a nearby stateroom.

3.32 a.m. A room service waiter slid out of the service door that led to the staff elevator, balancing a tray piled with plastic-covered dishes. He knocked on a door midway along the corridor, which was opened by a white man wearing a towel, and disappeared inside it. The waiter returned two minutes later, made an obscene gesture at the cabin door, and disappeared back into the service elevator.

4.17 a.m. A woman who fitted the body type and colouring of Kelly Lewis rounded the corner from the direction of the stairwell. A man wearing a baseball cap appeared behind her thirty seconds later. The woman moved unsteadily, trailing her hand against the wall for balance.

Sweat prickling his scalp, Devi paused the footage and zoomed in: it was definitely the victim. She dropped her card on the floor and the man hurried to help her. He pushed the door open and followed her into the cabin.

4.38 a.m. The man reappeared, placed the ‘don’t disturb’ notice on the door handle, and jogged back towards the stairwell.

So now he knew for sure that she had been targeted. Devi made a note to check the footage from the Sandman Lounge, which was undoubtedly where the man had found his prey. Devi ran the footage again, hoping that the face recognition software would identify Kelly’s assailant. But there weren’t enough points for the computer to match up. The man’s face was hidden beneath his cap, and he’d kept his head lowered. Devi would need to check who in the singles group resembled the man’s description: white, stocky, approximately six feet tall. Rogelio would know who fitted the description.

And what of the ‘don’t disturb’ notice? He didn’t recall seeing it. Perhaps the steward who’d been sent to check the rooms had removed it.

You are not in the crime squad now, Devi
.

Ram was correct. It could be left to the US authorities, but . . .
but
. Perhaps this was his way of putting things right. A way to make amends for what he had done – or what he had not done. He could still see the girl, limp-bodied, eyes blank, not much older than his cousin Misha. The woman who’d brought her into the station was hysterical, couldn’t understand why her charge was bleeding. He could have fought for the girl. He
should
have fought for her. But he chose his family’s sensibilities over justice.

Coward
.

But he couldn’t help anyone if he let his mind pick over his past like a bird eating a corpse.

There had been two sexual assaults on his last ship, both crew-related. A waitress had accused one of the assistant engineers of attacking her on the loading deck, and a crew member had been detained for following a teenager into one of the elevators and making indecent suggestions to her. The guy had been flown back to India at the next port – standard practice to avoid involving the American authorities and the press seizing hold of the story. The teenager’s family had been comped, and that had been the end of the matter. But this was different. The man who had stalked Kelly had known exactly what he was doing.

If he wasn’t stopped, he would do it again.

He ran the footage once more, then typed in the approximate time he and Althea Trazona had discovered the body. Trazona had been on edge when he’d first encountered her in the corridor. He should have questioned her more closely, but tomorrow would suffice.

The screen flicked to an image of Trazona stepping through the service door, a few minutes before Devi had encountered her. She paused, a hand to her throat, moved forward, and her lips moved as she said something. Confusion, then fear, flashed over her face. The lights in the corridor died, and the infra-red kicked in, rendering her eyes ghoulish black spheres. There was a flicker of static, black and grey, and then—

Devi yelped and jumped back in his chair, disturbing Ashgar, who jerked, murmured, ‘Wha?’ then fell back asleep.

Fingers shaking, Devi clicked back to the footage, and steeled himself to re-run it. What he’d seen – or thought he’d seen – was impossible.

But there it was again: a hand, the palm of a hand, covering the camera lens.

DAY 5

The Wildcard Blog

Fearlessly fighting the fraudulent so that you don’t have to

Jan 01

Happy New Year.

Only it’s not. For me, anyway.

First: apologies. I know I promised daily updates about my takedown of The Predator, but a lot has happened.

I’m going start with the big one. The ship is fucked and we’re officially stranded somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. Yeah, you read that right or you will when I can post this. The Wi-Fi’s down and there’s no network coverage. Thinking this may be intentional to avoid people sending angry anti-Foveros tweets, but we’ll see. The crew I’ve spoken to seem to know as much (or as little) as we do.

The ship is supposed to dock in Miami in five hours from now (8 a.m.), but that’s not going to happen as we’re still dead in the water. All we can do is wait for more news, which will be relayed by Damien, the cruise director, who not only has his own TV channel, but starts every sentence with ‘G’day’. He’s Australian and wants all of us to know it. Don’t mean to diss Aussies – to be fair, Damien’s the only one I’ve ever found irritating – dude probably got thrown out of his country for being a dick. Other shit is going down. After spending hours at the muster station last night with a bunch of frat boys who were smoking weed through vaporisers (wasn’t tempted – see below) I went back to my stateroom (a gloomy cave on Deck Five aka the ‘Majestic’ deck), to find that a cabin three doors down from mine had been sealed by Security, the door covered in tape, crime scene-style. Took a pic, will also post that when I can.

And the reason why I haven’t been in touch? I’ve been sick. The kind of stomach flu where you beg the gods to take your life. Felt like my entire body was trying to turn itself inside out. It started an hour after the ship left Miami. I was sniffing around, looking out for any sign of The Predator, when . . . OK, you probably don’t want to know the details. Think Jackson Pollock, only out of both ends. Yeah. Big props to Trining, my cabin steward. Woman has a stomach of iron. A nurse came to see me on day 2 and charged me 97 dollars to basically tell me there was nothing I could do apart from keep hydrated. Still a bit shaky.

OK. On to the stuff you’re reading this for:

As you know, I didn’t get the chance to sign up as one of The Predator’s Friends, seeing as the spots were booked up minutes after the ‘Cruise with Celine del Ray’ was mentioned on Zoop and FB, and last night, thinking it was my last chance to confront her, I dragged my aching body out of its sickbed, and lurched along to gatecrash her last event. Subtle, I wasn’t. I managed to slip inside the Starlight Dreamer Lounge (which looks as cheesy as it sounds) and walked straight into The Predator doing her Artful Dodger impression. Still feeling like crap, and suspecting I was gonna puke at any second, I confronted her about Lillian Small. Didn’t get much footage as nature called with a vengeance.

But the fact that the ship has stopped isn’t a bad thing for me. It’ll give me another chance to confront the old fraud.

Will update when I know more.

The Witch’s Assistant

Maddie sat up too quickly, blinking as sunlight needled into her eyes. Her neck throbbed from sleeping on the couch in Celine’s suite, and her T-shirt clung to her back. She had no recollection of dropping off – she must have passed out while waiting for Celine to fall asleep. But now the bed was empty, the coverlet barely creased. ‘Celine?’

No answer. She must be in the bathroom. The PA system beeped, making her start, and then Damien’s voice smarmed down at her:

‘G’day, ladies and gentlemen, Damien, your cruise director here. Just to give you an update on the situation. As you will have noticed, we’re still experiencing an electrical problem, but there is no cause for concern regarding your safety and well-being. We are aware that some of you have flights to catch this morning, and we’d like to assure you that this issue will be addressed shortly. We respectfully request that you refrain from bringing this up with Guest Services at this time. We also regretfully report that as the dining rooms are currently closed, breakfast will be served at our Lido buffet, where our staff are doing all they can to ensure you are comfortable and well fed.’